At the site of grace, Lucian rested and soon drifted into sleep. The next morning, with Melina's gentle wake-up call, he rose refreshed and once more set out on his journey.
Behind the ruined Artist's Shack were two jagged outcroppings of rock, jutting like horns from the mountain. Crossing between them formed a natural stone bridge, a shortcut to the next peak without descending to the valley floor.
In the pale light of dawn, all of Liurnia lay beneath a haze of mist, the world seeming dreamlike, almost unreal. Yet the silhouette of the Academy of Raya Lucaria grew sharper the closer he drew.
Beside the academy rose a staggering plateau, crowned with the remnants of ancient ruins. Lucian lingered, gazing at that highland—he knew it was the Moonlight Altar. But for now, he could not reach it.
A breathtaking sight, yet this time he did not tarry. His search for the moon still drove him onward.
Crossing the natural bridge, Lucian reached the opposite peak. The terrain rose higher still, an unbroken slope climbing almost to the foot of Altus Plateau itself.
But on that open hillside, a band of figures stood out starkly.
At their head marched warriors clad in bright crimson tunics and heavy black iron armor, their breastplates carved with a single glaring eye.
The Fire Monks.
And behind them followed the Thorn Sorcerers, gaunt figures in red hoods crowned with coils of thorn.
There were many. Every few dozen, they had pitched a crude camp—rough walls of timber, bristling with arrows lodged at odd angles.
Lucian suspected those shafts were the work of the Cuckoos, Liurnia's mercenaries. Likely they had tried their usual plundering raids.
Strange, though. Fire Monks were meant to guard the flame of the giants far to the north in the Mountaintops of the Giants. What were they doing here in Liurnia?
Lucian silently fixed the location in memory.
If these monks had slipped down secretly from the mountaintops, they could not have passed through Leyndell. Which meant there might be another way to reach the snowy peaks. A hidden route.
In a world like this, it would make no sense if the only way to the mountaintops was through Leyndell or the Consecrated Snowfield.
Their appearance here, Lucian guessed, might be linked to the sealed Evergaol of Liurnia—where Adan, Thief of Fire, was imprisoned.
Adan had stolen the Flame of the Fell God. That was the Fire Monks' hidden shame.
They were called watchers of the flame, but in truth they were also its worshippers—drawn, ensnared, obsessed.
If the Golden Order learned of Adan's existence, their betrayal would be exposed. And traitors had no fate but ruin.
As for their skirmishes with the Cuckoos, Lucian assumed the mercenaries had simply seen strangers and, true to tradition, attempted to plunder them. But they had chosen the wrong target.
A Fire Monks' war chariot was not something flesh and blood could hope to withstand.
And yet… that would hardly explain why one of those massive chariots now stood outside the gates of Raya Lucaria. Could it be spoils seized by the Cuckoos?
No—surely it wasn't possible that the mercenaries had bowed to the monks, then bartered with them?
Lucian chuckled and shook his head. Impossible.
Setting aside his idle speculation, he circled wide around the camps and continued up toward the Church of Vows.
Unbeknownst to him, the truth was stranger still.
The Cuckoos were a band without honor—treating foot soldiers as fodder, looting both friend and foe alike. A few dead at the vanguard meant nothing to them.
A fire chariot, though—that was worth far more than expendable lives.
So they had quickly sought truce.
When they proposed peace and even alliance, the Fire Monks had been stunned. But they saw no reason to refuse.
The Cuckoos agreed to keep their presence hidden, ensuring the Golden Order would not discover them. In return, the Fire Monks sold the war chariot at a high price.
After all, selling chariots as "merchandise" was one of their ways of funding themselves.
Thus the two groups became unlikely partners—villainous hands clasped together, coexisting in comfort.
—
The ruined church drew near, its crumbling walls veiled in moss and ivy. Like every other fallen church, the Church of Vows was but a shell of past splendor. Tombstones littered the ground before it, though thankfully no Tibia Mariners or death-touched beasts haunted them.
Lucian dismounted at the entrance and stepped inside.
Within, the scene changed entirely.
Blue and yellow flowers blossomed everywhere, carpeting the floor and filling the shattered nave with life.
"Oh? A visitor, at last."
A voice—measured, gentle.
From the shadows, a huge silver tortoise turned his head toward Lucian. Larger than a man, his shell rose taller than Lucian's current form. Upon that shell rested a white priest's mitre, marking his station.
"You're Tarnished, aren't you? I Welcome you, to the Church of Vows."
"I am Miriel, steward of this sacred chamber. My apologies, for the unseemly state of affairs."
"Oh, was there something you needed? You are free to show yourself around. I would serve as your guide, only my legs aren't what they used to be... If you find anything of use, you are free to take it with you."
"Though I would ask, first—might I know your name? And tell me, do you know the origin of this place?"
Lucian inclined his head, recalling the lore from the game, and answered.
"My name is Lucian. No need for titles, just Lucian is fine.
"I've heard this place was once where the Moon and the Erdtree were joined… though the details escape me."
Miriel's eyes brightened.
"Oh, to hear you know of it at all fills me with joy. The tale is all but forgotten by most."
"Yes… the Church of Vows was where such a miracle once took place. If you are willing, I will tell you the story in full."
And so, in his deep, unhurried voice, the great tortoise priest began to recount the union of Radagon and Rennala—the Red-Haired champion of the Erdtree and the Full Moon Queen of Caria.
[…Miriel narrated the history of Caria, the Eternal Cities, the oath at the Church of Vows, Radagon's repentance and vow, Rennala's betrayal, and her eventual downfall.]
"The Shattering has caused us - all of us - to lose sight of something very dear. It is here, at the Church of Vows, that the great houses of the Erdtree and the Moon were joined. And so, our church holds in view the monuments of both houses. The Erdtree of the Capital, and the Academy of Raya Lucaria...
Ah yes, let us begin with Lord Radagon, who was a great champion, possessed of flowing red locks.. He was a hero, bearing a flowing mane of crimson, who led the armies of the Erdtree into these lands. It was upon the battlefield that he encountered Lady Rennala.
Lady Rennala was queen of the Carian royal family, and sovereign of the Academy of Raya Lucaria. She was both great and beautiful, a sorceress of unmatched might—thus was she named the Carian Queen of the Full Moon.
The Carian line is an ancient one, with faint ties to the Eternal Cities buried deep below. One can glimpse this in their crests and sigils.
And indeed, this very Church of Vows shares a bond with the Nox dynasty beneath the land. Do you see that pool there, in the center of the church?"
Miriel turned his head toward the round basin at the church's heart.
Lucian followed his gaze.Even though the church lay in ruin, the pool remained pristine, with a statue at its center—the likeness of a Nox Monk.
"If one seeks to mend a relationship that is broken beyond repair, one may bathe in Celestial Dew there. By offering true repentance, the Celestial Dew will carry one's heart to the other.
Oftentimes, what people lack is not the will, but the courage to speak an apology. Even the most steadfast warrior may falter before such trials."
The turtle priest turned back.
"But to return, the Carian royal line is very old, and Lady Rennala was of exalted station. In her reign, many allies stood with the moon—mountain trolls, dragons of the air, and beasts of the land alike.
In comparison, Lord Radagon's origins were humbler. He was but one of many heroes sworn to the Erdtree. Yet among those heroes, his fame and strength were unmatched—he led the battlefield itself. Still, Lady Rennala was a queen, and the difference in station was vast.
And yet—such two souls became joined. This very Church of Vows bore witness to their wondrous union. On the battlefield, they met and came to know each other, and in time, they understood. They loved.
And Lord Radagon repented, truly, for waging his war of invasion. The miracle of this church—the ancient, inscrutable rite of old—was his salvation.
In that rite, Lord Radagon bathed himself in Celestial Dew. In so doing, he offered his heartfelt repentance for the war, and he swore his love for Lady Rennala would endure forever.
Thus were Lord Radagon and Lady Rennala joined as consorts. And so, when the law of the Erdtree and the command of the moon were bound together, all was reconciled.
…Ah, if only the tale ended there.
But after the first Elden Lord, Godfrey, was driven from the Lands Between, Lord Radagon cast Lady Rennala aside. He returned to Leyndell, to the Erdtree, to become consort to Queen Marika—her second husband, and the second Elden Lord.
And Lady Rennala, abandoned, lost her heart. The scholars of the Academy soon noticed—and they rose in rebellion. Though the Carian knights fought and bled to shield her, and kept her life intact, was that truly a kindness?
To be bound in union, only to be betrayed… the wound of such a reversal cannot be measured. She lost her heart, clutching amber to her breast, sinking into forbidden sorceries…"
Lucian listened in silence, letting Miriel's words unfurl the weight of history.
When the tale ended, Miriel sighed, overcome with sorrow for Rennala. Then, catching himself, he chuckled softly.
"Forgive me. An old tortoise, prattling endlessly… It has been long indeed since I last had company."
"Thank you, Lucian. To speak of the Church's history once more gladdens me."
"As a token, if you have interest in sorceries or incantations, I will teach you freely. Magic or prayer, all knowledge is equal here."
Lucian nodded. He had not yet found the Dragon Cult Prayerbook, but he carried another.
From Torrent's pack, he produced a tome he had claimed from Stormveil's treasury—the Godskin Prayerbook—and handed it gently to Miriel.